Your Everything
by iMissNothing
Summary: There were many things that could be said about Uchiha Itachi. Murderer. Criminal. Traitor. But for Aoi, a downtrodden working girl in the lowly brothels of Kirigakure, Uchiha Itachi was her everything.
1. Chapter 1

The smell of stale opium permeated the surrounding air, while the sound of someone playing a shamisen did nothing to cover the wanton moaning of whores. The individual plucking at the instrument was clearly inexperienced and would hit a sour note every once in a while before they continued to fumble through whatever song it was they intended to play. Not that the patrons of the seedy dwelling seemed to mind. They did not frequent the establishment for the music, after all. Located in the heart of Kirigakure; Yokuto's was just one of the many brothels that plagued the dismal city. Despite its ragged appearance it was visited by both civilian and shinobi alike, as the opium and sake flowed freely. The women were painted pretty with coal lining the tops of their eyelids and lips sinfully rouge. Scantily clad in little more than haori that barely brushed the middle of their thighs, they wandered around the stuffy space, most often indulging themselves in the available narcotics, while tending to the carnal desires of men.

I had often debated with myself as to whether or not I enjoyed the feeling of opium. The few times I had tried it the lack of control over my own body had made me uneasy despite the blissful high. Some of the other girls loved it for the utter numbness it provided, after all its easier to spread your legs for a living when you can't feel pesky emotions like shame or remorse. Not everyone was cut out for this sort of work but it proved to be better living than most had here in Kiri. The country itself was wracked with poverty and the few individuals that weren't begging on the streets made their wealth through less than honourable means. It was common for people to die from starvation, mostly the hundreds of orphans that had taken refuge here after the Third Ninja war. I had once been kin to the malnourished street rats until Yokuto had found me begging for scraps. He had said I had a good face for a kid and offered me food and shelter from the constant rain. I was considered to be one of the lucky ones. The first few years in the brothel had been the best and the worst. My living space had consisted of no more than a pile of blankets in a storage closet and food was scraps from whatever the working girls hadn't eaten that day. Work consisted of doing odd jobs around the brothel, running errands, cleaning and scrubbing until my fingers would bleed. Not that my efforts then had truly made a difference over all the place was still a dump and I was surprised the building itself had not been condemned. Not that it would matter much as the inspectors were easy to pay off in one form or another. I had been 13 the first time I started really working. Yokuto had owed a debt to a well known loan shark and in an effort to stave off the collectors he had offered them a free romp with any of the girls. Unfortunately amongst them had been some twisted bastard with a penchant for little girls. Yokuto hadn't hesitated in the slightest and I was promptly tossed in a room with the man. The first time was the worst. I remembered screaming and begging the man to stop, to show mercy. I had learned since then men like that seldom cared for tears.

The times that came after were better and eventually the tears had stopped coming. Some may have pitied my circumstances but here in Kiri it was a blessing. With the new work came benefits I was given my own room and more than simply scraps at meal times. I don't particularly enjoy any part of my lot in life but I am not arrogant enough to consider myself pitiable. I have a roof over my head and food on my table, and that is more than most people in this city can say. I had once had fanciful illusions of breaking out of the brothel and escaping to a place where I would find a normal job and own a house where I could invite all my new friends to. We would sit around the table laughing, talking and sharing stories with one another. I shared this dream with some of the other girls once, they had laughed in my face and told me I was foolish. I had grown up on the streets uneducated and did not possess the strengths or talents of a ninja, or any talents for that matter. They had told me to forget about my juvenile dream and accept my place in life. It was the one piece of good advice I had ever received from them. Their is no camaraderie among whores only competition. Despite all being in the same situation seldom women at the brothel get along. Everyone is looking out for themselves and friendship is only an invitation to get stabbed in the back. Only the strong survive here, and there is no point wasting time on a dream that will never be a reality.

"Aoi!" Someone called bringing me out off my thoughts. I gave a soft grunt acknowledging I had heard them. Turning in my stool at the front of the bar I was met with one of the other girls; Momoko. She was a few years older than I and had been here twice as long. I had never particularly liked her much as she often thought her years spent here gave her seniority.

"Go attend to the men in the corner table. All the other girls are busy and I've got a regular coming in 20 who has requested me specifically." she said running her hand through her bright orange hair. I had always doubted the colour was natural. Merely a means to attract attention to herself. I had once heard her bragging that a customer had said it was 'exotic' and I scoffed at the idea. There was nothing 'exotic' about her, she had been a Kiri gutter rat once like the rest of us. Although I was mildly surprised she was pushing customers on me. Normally she would have tried to at least make a couple bucks before her regular came in, but who was I to complain, money was money.

Nodding my head in her direction I lazily pushed myself off the stool and made my way to the corner table, my shoes creaking against the decaying wood of the floor. There were two men seated at the table both with their backs facing towards me and were quietly conversing with one another. One appeared to be significantly shorter than the other although it was not due to a lack of height on his part, the other man was simply massive more than likely reaching over 7 feet when standing. Normally his height would be considered especially alarming but these days shinobi came in all sorts of shapes and sizes, it was best not to chance testing their patience by staring. The larger man gestured with his hand to the shorter one beside him and I caught a glimpse of the blue tinge of his skin. I nearly froze in my tracks when I realized just who was seated there. With rapidly growing horror I now knew exactly why Momoko had pushed these patrons on to me.

There seated in the corner table was Hoshigaki Kisame.


	2. Chapter 2

Standing frozen in the middle of the dingy bar I could hear the sound of my rapid heartbeat thundering in my ears. Kisame Hoshigaki was well known throughout the brothels of Kirigakure. His frequent patronage and distinct appearance made him easy to identify. The blueish tone of his skin and razor like teeth likened him to a shark, and some women had even gone as far as to claim the scaring underneath his eyes were in fact actual gills. The man had quite the reputation as a shinobi as well. Every once in a while the odd Bounty Hunter would sweep through the various brothels asking for rogue ninjas, sometimes with photographs and descriptions, others with merely a name. The Hunters that asked after Kisame never came back.

I quickly whipped around to return to where Momoko had taken my stool at the bar and had begun pouring herself sake. Frantically walking up to the girl I reached out with a trembling hand to grab her boney shoulder. Turning away from her sake she looked at me with a raised eyebrow in, what I was more than sure, an attempt to mock my earlier expression.

"I'm not going over there." I stated in the most firm tone I could muster while my insides tossed and turned as I knew deep down my fate was ultimately inevitable.

"Yes you are, and if I were you I'd hurry. He doesn't like to be kept waiting." She drawled out in a bored tone before indulging once again in her drink.

"Then have one of the other girls do it!" I spat out, some of my desperation leaking through as my voice cracked.

"Like I said they're _busy_! And I've got a regular coming in later, now go over there or take it up with Yokuto, but I think we both know how thats going to turn out." She sneered at me. I let a glare wash over my features along with the sense of my own defeat as I knew exactly how the situation would play out. It was well known that Momoko would often frequent Yokuto's bed and that in turn gave her slight perks here and there. I sincerely doubted she was waiting on another customer. I could continue to argue with her but that would waste time and Kisame was not known for being a patient man. She would eventually whine to Yokuto anyways and I would be in the same position I am now but with a much more irritable ninja on my hands. I gave a frustrated noise before rushing behind the bar to grab the largest pitcher of sake we had, making sure to bump my elbow into the infuriating girl on my way in hopes she spilled some of her drink on herself. Filling the pitcher to the very top I grabbed a tray and some glasses before making my way as slowly as I could towards my own impending doom.

In addition to his lascivious appetite for sake that could rival the most experienced of drunkards, the boorish ninja had been proven to have a rather sadistic streak that had made him infamous throughout the brothels. Stories ranged from a variety of busted lips and black eyes, to a particularly mouthy girl named Ami who had lost all of her front teeth and a pinky finger. Rumor had it she now accommodated back alley patrons for pocket change or a hot meal. After all there wasn't anyone who would pay any reasonable amount of money for a toothless hooker. The managers seldom cared if he roughed up the girls, after all his money was good and there was always another girl wandering the streets looking for work. Besides even if they had found fault with his behaviour, most of them were right cowards who wouldn't dare so much as raise a finger against a ninja of his caliber. I had been lucky enough thus far as to avoid serving him and had seen enough of his handiwork to know I wanted it to remain that way. It had become somewhat of a game for the girls to see who would be unfortunate enough to accompany him when he came into our rugged establishment. Sometimes straws were drawn and other times it was simply thrust upon some unfortunate soul. Much like Momoko had done to me. Keeping my eyes downcast I approached the table where the two men were seated.

"About time." I heard his rough grainy voice grumble out and I tried not outwardly cringe as I set the tray on the table, taking care to avoid eye contact.

"My apologies." I said lowering my head further before taking my place beside them to pour the sake. I made sure to focus intensely on the task to ensure not a drop was spilled by my shaking hands. Steadying my nerves I reached out to hand the man his cup. I felt the rough calluses of his massive palms against my own as he took the cup from my grasp. With a quiet sigh of relief I turned back to the tray to pour his companion a drink before my chin was abruptly grasped by the same rough hands forcing my face upwards to look into the ugly mug of the intimidating ninja. Fear gripped my heart as it began palpitating in my chest. It was the closest I had ever been to the man and his shark like appearance gave me the impression that he was more monster than man. Perhaps a cruel reflection of his true nature. What set me on edge the most were his eyes. They were a flat dull gray that lacked any depth or human emotion from what I could discern. Still as rabbit caught in jaws of a snake, I watched as his beady gaze scanned over my features clutched in his grasp before he finally lowered his hand none too gently.

"You're a little on the young side but you'll do I suppose." He said before turning back to his drink and swigging the entire cup back in one go. I let out a shaky breath before quickly refilling his cup with unsteady hands praying to whatever gods would hear me that not a drop was lost. I knew from previous tales that it was unwise to let the mans cup remain empty at any point. Once I was sure he was satisfied for the moment I hastily turned to fill a glass for his partner. I was aware it had been rather rude of me to ignore his glass to ensure Kisame's was full once again. Not that I cared much about manners but I was banking on the fact he might be less likely to slap me across the face if his cup became empty, while I was more than positive his blue counterpart would. I mumbled a quick apology towards the man and hastily poured his drink.

Turning to face the man with his beverage I nearly dropped the cup as I took in his appearance. He was by far the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. It felt strange to use the term beautiful to describe a man but I could think of no better word to do so. For he simply was a beautiful creature, even more so than most of the women I had known. His skin was pale and flawless, contrasting hauntingly well with his dark features. Black hair that was reminiscent of strands of silk framed his angular face before disappearing beneath the high collar of his cloak. His jaw was slightly more narrow than most mens but it did nothing to take away from the over all symmetry of his face. What captivated me most about the man however was his eyes. Surrounded by unfairly long dark lashes his iris's were the deepest black I had ever come across, so much so that I could not begin to tell where his pupils began. The dark pools were seemingly endless and I couldn't begin to fathom their true depth. It seemed as though they held everything and nothing all at once. But the strangest thing I found in his blank stare was that it was hauntingly familiar to my own. His were the eyes of someone who had seen a great many things, things that would sicken most people. The eyes of a boy forced to become a man, and it had aged him in a way that his other features didn't let on.

I stared awestruck at the man with what I'm more than sure was a stupid expression marring my features holding out the sake cup. With steady grace in his movements I had only seen from the most practiced of shinobi, his long fingers came to curl around the proffered liquor before he gently sat it on the table in front of him, leaving the drink untouched. With a slight nod in my direction he turned to face forward once more letting the lids of his eyes come to rest over his ebony orbs, breaking me out of my trance. I felt a small shiver run up my spine at the loss of his intense gaze before mentally berating myself over my squeamish behaviour. It was not the first time I had come across a pretty face in my line of work and it would not be the last. I had learned that pleasing features were often accompanied by arrogance and occasionally an obnoxious nature. Looks really only went so far and one would be a fool to acquiesce to the whims of blatant beauty.

It was about a half hour before any idle chatter was made between any of us. When acting as the companion of a ninja it was common knowledge that speaking only when spoken to was the best policy, lest they think you a spy trying to gain information. The end result of such suspicions usually ended with your tongue removed from your mouth. Kisame was nearing the bottom of his fourth pitcher of sake and appeared to be showing the first signs of being tipsy while the others remained untouched. I found myself drinking more than I normally would in a futile attempt to slightly dull the on coming pain I would surely receive in the future. Yet while I felt the warm burn of the sake in the flush of my cheeks I made a point to keep my wits about me.

"Ne Itachi, s'not so bad here eh?" The larger man slurred slightly, downing his glass with ease before shoving his cup in my direction to be refilled and I was quick to accommodate.

"Wine, women all in the same place. Rather convenient no? But I guess you've never been one for all that though. Always work and no play with you." He prattled on in his booming voice, swishing his newly filled cup around as he gestured boisterously, yet he managed not to lose a single drop of the bitter wine and in my buzzed stupor I couldn't help but be a little impressed.

The man whom I assumed was Itachi gave a non committed grunt at his words, no doubt to humour the man next to him. His posture was rigid yet somehow seemed relaxed at the same time. I had to wonder if he was stiff or uncomfortable from it yet he gave no outward indications of such. In fact he was so still I would have thought him dead had he not been upright. His profile reminded me of a painting of sorts, as if he was made up of nothing more than brush strokes from the most skilled of artistry.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt Kisame shift to stand up next to me. He mumbled something along the lines of 'taking a leak' before he made his way to where the restrooms were located. Despite my original fear of him I was almost reluctant for him to leave me alone with his partner. I was not often one to be intimidated by awkward situations or uncomfortable silence but that did not mean I revelled in it. Taking a small sip of my sake to give myself something to do to avoid talking to the man next to me, I nearly spat it out all over myself when I heard my companions silky voice shatter the silence.

"How old are you girl?" He questioned me, despite remaining in his same position facing forward. It took my mind a moment to process his question as I had not expected him to speak at all. It was a strange thing to be asked in a brothel, most men where hesitant to know the true age of their escorts lest it impede up their fantasies or conscious. The older women would be forever young and the young women were older than they looked in the eyes of men. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

"Old enough." I replied while attempting to mimic his indifference and turned back to my sake taking another small sip from the chipped ceramic in my hand.

"You don't look it to be in this profession."

I felt myself bristle at his response as it seemed to me he was either mocking me or being condescending. Who was this man to patronize me? Despite my age I had known more of the wickedness of the world than most would in a life time. He himself couldn't have been more than 5 years older than myself.

"Sixteen. I'll be seventeen next month, but I've working here for longer than that." I said snappily before angling my body away from him signalling the end of the subject. He did not bring up the topic of my youth again and seemed content to merely sit in silence. Just as well, as Kisame had made his return from receiving himself, plunking his looming, bulky frame next to my significantly smaller one.

I heard a high pitched giggling from across the room and turned to look over to where Momoko's supposed 'regular' had arrived and was currently draping himself across the squealing girl. The squealing had apparently triggered something in the two ninja as Itachi's eyes abruptly snapped open.

"Kisame."

"Uh-huh." The larger man grunted before turning to face me. "Go and prepare a room girl." His voice grated, his eyes never leaving Itachi's as they appeared to be conversing through mere looks alone.

I felt unnerved as I made to stand on my quaking limbs, slowly heading towards the backrooms where my bed was located. In my shaky wobbling away from the table I heard the two deep voices mumbling to one another. Rarely did I ever feel nervous anymore when taking a man to bed, my years at the brothel had given me a thick skin and a stiff upper lip. Yet when faced with the task of accommodating the two imposing shinobi my walls came crashing down and I was left feeling strangely vulnerable. I was prepared for the physical pain that would undoubtably come with the large shark-man, and while that frightened me, it was his companion that had me shaking like a leaf. I had heard the stories of Kisame and his violent nature, I simply hoped if I kept my mouth shut and remained obedient I could get away with some mere bruising. However, this Itachi was unpredictable. I had no knowledge of what to expect from him, yet if I was pressed to venture a guess I could only assume that if he was a companion to the blue tinged brute, he had to be some form of twisted. The only real question was: Just _how_ twisted?

My quivering hands reached for the door to my room slowly pushing it open letting the rusty hinges creak and groan with the strain. Closing the door behind me I walked towards my bed which was little more than a lumpy thin mattress surrounded by a variety of blue and grey blankets. Mentally berating myself for my own weakness I forced my shivers to dull and made an effort to smooth out the blankets in hopes of making the sad excuse for a bed somewhat more appealing in hopes of pleasing them. Not that I truly believed tidy sheets would make a significant difference in their treatment of me. I gave a soft sigh before undoing the front of the dark green haori, giving way to the lacy garments I wore underneath. They were frayed at the edges and had been sewn in different patches where a customer had been too eager. If one looked close enough it was evident they were cheaply made but I was not a fool to waste money on fine luxuries, besides they would still end up on the dirty floor regardless of how soft the silk was. I caught a brief glance of my reflection in the small dusty mirror I kept in the corner of the room and quickly looked away. I hated the old thing and had debated on smashing it more than once, had it not been necessary for applying make-up and other aesthetic purposes. Well, perhaps it was not so much the actual mirror I hated. Rather, what it reflected. In the mirror I saw a tired worn girl, wasting away in a dingy brothel in the slums of a poverty stricken city. I felt trapped staring at my reflection, as if the mirror was telling me:

 _'This is your life. This is all you were ever meant to be, and all you ever will be. Caged in edges and cracks of my glass. How long before you too shatter?'_


	3. Chapter 3

I had been waiting for over several minutes now for one of the two men to enter the room, and was becoming mildly irritated with their absence the longer they took. Not that I was eager for what was to come, but I only had so many hours in a day and other patrons to serve and this was wasting my time. With a frustrated sigh I threw myself back against the mattress and glared at the water stained ceiling of my room. Patience had never quite been a fortitude of mine, in reality I had probably only been there for roughly twenty minutes or so, yet it had felt like hours being cooped up in the shabby living space. In my boredom I began to imagine what to expect from the two frightening men. Running through various scenarios of what was to come in my head, each more outlandish than the last. Perhaps it would the giant blue brute who would enter first followed by his partner. Perhaps I wouldn't see the dark haired man at all and he would choose to spend his time with one of the other girls. At that I felt a twinge of irrational jealousy that the gorgeous man might prefer another. Rolling my eyes at my own pettiness I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind and instead focused on counting the various spots and blemishes in the ceiling to pass the time. Just as I had gotten to a particularly large stain in the left hand corner of the room I heard my door slam open. The sharp sound made me jump and I quickly scrambled to sit up straight. In all my wildest scenarios I did not expecting to see both of them standing in my doorway gripping a third man by the collar of his neck. I was immensely confused as Kisame barged into the room dragging the smaller man with him, while Itachi calmly followed in after. Did all three of them intend to...? Just what had happened when I had left to prepare the room?

"Th-that will cost extra you know..." I mumbled to the men trying not to let my perplexity leak through my tone. However they ignored me completely and Kisame slammed the man against wall next to the small dresser where I kept the few garments I possessed. The loud bang shocked me and I jumped again slightly backing away from the spectacle, the air in the room was becoming more tense as I registered the fear on the mans face who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else in the world than in this very room. I could definitely share his sentiments.

Upon a closer inspection of the man I recognized him as the handsy oaf who was Momoko's client. He appeared to be sweating profusely as Kisame leaned in close to growl something in his ear while Itachi eyed the man from across the room.

"I-I swear I-I-I didn't say nothin' to the him 'bout your business. Nothin'!" The man stuttered out nervously gasping for air as the large blue appendage around his neck clenched tighter, pushing against his windpipe.

"Is that so?" Kisame replied in a mocking tone, the corners of his mouth twisting into a sadistic grin revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. "Our contacts in Kusa had a very different story to tell about this little leak of information."

The man paled significantly and he scrambled to deny his involvement, the cords of his neck visible with the strain of pressing against the hand that and him locked against the wall. "Who'd you talk to? Michiru? He's lying rat bastard! Can't trust a word he says! I swear to you I would nev-"

The man was slammed sharply against the wall, his head leaving a small indent in tattered wallpaper. His eyes rolled back into his head before he appeared to regain consciousness and began blubbering to the giant monster of a man holding him captive.

I was suddenly beginning to feel very uneasy as the tension in the room was palpable. I huddled myself further into a corner, not daring to utter a peep, lest I draw any attention to myself.

Kisame let out a large booming laugh at the mans desperation. "You know," he began with a wide grin that showed off his sharp canines "there's only one thing I like less than a rat. A lying rat. So here's what's going to happen you're going to tell me exactly what you told him and I might just consider killing you quickly."

I felt my own eyes widen at that. I had seen many things in my time at the brothel but a blatant murder was not one of them. Nor was it something I wished to witness. The man began to weep, sob and beg for his life, I couldn't help but pity him because I knew in my gut he was a dead man walking as soon as he entered the room.

Kisame let out a disgruntled sigh before turning to face his partner leaning against the opposite wall. "Itachi." he said nodding in the direction of the man.

Itachi pushed himself from the wall passing by me and appeared to be mumbling something to himself before he slapped a white peice of paper against the door of my room which had one word written on it.

 _"Silence"_

I stared at the piece of paper in confusion before my attention was drawn back to the trio as the man started screaming at Itachis approach.

"NO! No, no, no, no, no NO! Anything but that please! I'll talk I'll tell you everything you want to know. Please have mercy!" The man had a wild crazed look in his eyes as if he were an animal surrounded by predators ready to feast on is flesh. I stared at Itachi's back in confusion as he had yet to draw a weapon of any kind he merely walked right up to the man stopping a foot or two from where he was plastered against the wall.

All of the sudden the mans rambling halted as if someone had simply flicked a switch to shut him up. A dazed look took over his features and it became eerily quiet in the room.

Then the screaming started. I had never heard another human being make the sounds that were coming out of the mans mouth. I slapped my hands over my own ears and shoved my head in between my knees in hopes of blocking the horrific screeching from reaching my ears. Yet it did little to help. It lasted for just under a minute until it came to an abrupt stop. I hesitantly looked up from where I had curled into myself only to see Kisame drop the man to the floor moments before he began to wretch all over himself. He was shaking as though he were having some sort of seizure an expression of horror stained his features.

"Did you get it?" Kisame asked Itachi in a nonchalant tone as though he hadn't witnessed the terrifying spectacle a moment before.

His only response was a uncommitted grunt, but apparently that was all Kisame need as he once again picked the man up by the scruff of his shirt and proceed to whip out a kunai with lightening fast speed and drag it across the shell shocked mans throat.

I let out a terrified screech of my own as I was suddenly sprayed with a warm sticky liquid, and my dingy colorless walls were quickly painted red. In my shock I couldn't help but hazily wonder how much blood could come from such a small man. I stared and stared at the man slowly bleeding out against my dresser and felt my entire body become numb, there was a ringing in my ears and my tongue felt as though it was two sizes too big for my mouth. I vaguely wondered if this is what going into shock felt like. I saw two large bulky legs enter my line of vision and felt as though I was being ripped back into reality.

"Now what to do with you little one." The large blue man grinned down at me wickedly and I just about felt my heart stop. He bent at the knees to be closer to my level although his enormous frame still towered over mine. My brain screamed at me to run kick punch do anything to get away, yet my body felt as though it were paralyzed.

"As you can see," he began in a condescending tone that would have irritated me in any other circumstance. "I don't much like people who can't keep there mouths shut. But, you've caught me in a good mood today sweet heart. So I'll tell you what, I'll let you live and I'll only take one finger from you so if anyone comes poking around you remember I'll take your whole fucking arm and then some if you open that pretty little mouth of yours. Hell I'll even let you pick which finger I take." He cackled reaching for my hand. I quickly snatched it away from his reach pinning it to my chest. I was so horrified I could only open and close my mouth I must have resembled a fish more than he did in that moment.

He simply rolled his eyes at me before extending his reach to force my hand away from my chest, yet before he could even touch the skin of my wrist a voice cut through the air as sharp as a blade.

"Kisame."

The two men stared at each other a moment before the larger of the two let out a grumble before standing to his feet. "Ahhh! You never let me have any fun Itachi." He said before moving to pick up the body lying in a pool of blood on my floor and heading out the door. "Today's your lucky day sweet heart!" He called over his shoulder before heading out the door dragging the body with him.

My heart was racing a million miles a minute as I stared where the blue man intending to cut off my finger had been moments before. Suddenly a large pouch was tossed at my feet and created a large smack against the floor as the contents clanked together inside. The sound nearly brought on a heart attack before a deep voice filled the silence.

"That should be enough to cover any expenses." He said in a hollow tone as though he were discussing the weather. Then he too turned to head out the door without another word. Leaving me alone in the corner of my room covered in another mans blood.

I don't know how long I was in that corner still as a statue and not daring to make a sound lest they were simply waiting on the other side of the door. Eventually I calmed myself enough to convince myself they had well and truly left before shakily moving to grasp the pouch that had been left behind. My quivering hands fumbled for a good few minutes with the draw string before I was able to force it open. Inside I found a considerable amount of Ryo. I tossed the pouch away from me before I stumbled towards my cot and wrapped myself in the ratty blanket I possessed. Then for the first time in years, I cried.


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't see him again for almost a year. The first few months wracked me with paranoia. Despite keeping my tongue in check I lived in fear that the events of that day would somehow miraculously manifest into local gossip and I would be to blame. The thought of the two robed men hunting me down had me petrified and riddled with crippling anxiety. For months I was peeking around corners and avoiding shadowed crevices. Looking back it was possible I developed a mild case of insomnia. Sleep never came easy to me. I would remain awake until the earliest hours of the morning watching my door with the intensity that a hawk watches its prey. I would sit and watch for even the slightest movement of the door handle, gripping a knife I had stolen from the kitchen. Counting the seconds until daylight as if the steady rhythm of time would soothe my fears of monsters donning cloaks decorated with blood red clouds bursting into my room to make well on their threats.

On the nights where my body could deprive itself no further of rest my dreams were haunted by the mans gut wrenching screams and splashes of blood against my skin. I would find myself trapped in the endless spiral of my subconscious that tormented me with images of razor like teeth digging into my flesh, and most terrifyingly a pair of wicked red eyes looming over me. Inescapable and vigilant in their pricing stare that followed my every move. Those eyes terrified me. Logically i had know knowledge of their significance or capabilities, but staring into them I was overwhelmed by a prehistoric instinct ingrained into mankind that screamed to my very core "DANGER. RUN." I would then wake up in cold sweat horrified I had failed in my nightly watch and grasp for my dulled kitchen knife. Gripping it so my knuckles become blanched and the joints in my hands ached in protest. As though it were my lifeline that would protect me from the monsters disguised as ninja.

Eventually, times healing effect soothed my paranoia and allowed me to regain a healthy sleeping pattern. The men in cloaks had not returned and no one spoke whispers of the screaming mans disappearance. I lulled myself into a sense of security and normalcy in my daily routines. But you can bet I still kept that knife tucked away safely under my old mattress.

When I first came to the brothel one of the kinder women told me a tale about a cautious man. The man was careful and conscious of everything he did, and longed to build a home in a place where he could be safe from the dangers of the world. The man never travelled without protection and was untrusting of all the people inhabiting the villages he came across. He travelled through many lands only to find danger lurking within every place. The wildlife of the jungles could eat him he thought. The harsh weathers of the desserts could perish him he thought. The large trees in the forest could topple over and crush him he thought. One day the man came across a beautiful sunny meadow full of red poppies. It was untouched by devious villagers and possessed no dangerous creatures. The man was suddenly overcome by such a strong sense of serenity in the meadow. "Yes," he thought "Here is where I shall make my home." Having found his sanctuary the man lay upon the grass surrounded by the beautiful red flowers. He basked in the sense of peace and security the poppies provided him with and closed his eyes to rest in the embrace of flora. The man never awoke. The next day a merchant and his son from a nearby village were passing along the trail adjacent to the beautiful meadow. The little boys eyes danced with glee at the beautiful sight of poppies that seemed to dance for his young eyes in the wind. "Father! Those are beautiful flowers I wish to bring some home for Mother!" the little boy cried in delight. With a stern look on his face the Merchant turned to his son and said "Though the poppies may be beautiful, you must never go near them. They are so poisonous even the wild life dare not come near."

"Danger strikes when you are least expectant of it and hides in the most beautiful of forms. When you think you are safe is when you are most vulnerable" the kind whore had told me upon finishing her tale.

As it was her words rang laughably true. I awoke the same as any other day, pinning my long locks to the top of my head with a dainty ornament given to me by one of my clients. I suspected he had stolen it but it was a pretty trinket regardless of its origins. The day continued on in a regular fashion for a Tuesday. Business was slow but not non existent. I entertained a few regular patrons and someone claiming to be a distant relative of some Daiymo or another. Around the evening hours I sat myself in my usual seat sipping on some sake sparingly. I did not wish to get drunk merely feel the burning warmth of the alcohol on my tongue.

"Aoi." One of the newer girls called out to me I had yet to learn her name and only distinguished her by the abundance of freckles that littered her face. I nodded to her in acknowledgment as she approached setting my cup on the rotting wood of the bar.

"You have someone requestin' ya. Mighty handsome too." she said with a wink. I rolled my eyes at her words. Being newer she had yet to learn all the men in here were the same regardless of being pretty or not. "He's over there in the corner table." she pointed before stalking off to go about her own business.

With a sigh I got up from my seat to head over in the direction she indicated. It had been sometime since I had been requested specifically. I was not the most enthusiastic in my 'work' and had been told many occasion I came off as frigid. Much like the man in the tale I had become blinded by the false security of time and like a fool the irregular request for my presence ceased to raise an internal red flag. It was only when I arrived at the table my heart dropped into my stomach.

There he was sitting in his favourite rigid manner, posture perfectly aligned and hands folded politely in his lap. He had yet to acknowledge my presence, merely gazing out the window casually he was ignorant or uncaring of the internal anarchy I was experiencing. His eyes remained their bottomless black unlike the vivid red that had plagued my nightmares, but he remained just as achingly beautiful as I remembered. I likened him to the crimson poppies in the tale, unquestionably pretty as he was assuredly deadly.

"Sit." He said in his deep velvety tone, shattering the silence between us. I flinched at the sound and quickly dropped to my knees hitting one of my knee caps on the edge of the table in my haste to comply. Panic swamped my brain as I tried to produce an explanation for his sudden appearance. I hadn't spoken a word to anyone! Perhaps a rumour had started! He couldn't possibly kill me for petty gossip. He had to know I would keep my silence!

I shuddered with a few squeaky gasps in an effort to find my voice to assure him of my silence.

"You have to know I didn-"

"I know." he interrupted never breaking his gaze from the window.

I felt my heart settle at this, feeling much more relaxed in his presence knowing he was aware I had followed his instructions to the letter. Yet, this still left me with the unanswered reason for his visit. I waited for him to speak but he continued to stare out the window as if I were not there. After a few more minutes I found myself growing agitated with his dismissal of me and itched to break the silence between us.

"Can I get you a drink?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. The question caused him to break his gaze from whatever it was that had captivated him outside the window and turn to stare at me head on. I felt myself jolt under his gaze, clenching my fists in my robe beneath the table to calm my erratic nerves.

"Tea." He simply said. I was slightly taken aback by this request. Never in my years working here had I served anything other than sake to a customer.

"I uh- I think we have a set somewhere." I mumbled rising to search for a tea set I was unsure even existed.

After digging ruthlessly behind the bar I came across a shoddy looking tea set layered in dust. Doing my best to clean the offending grime off I began to brew the tea. Even after my bests efforts to polish the old tea set up it was still a pathetic sight to behold. The pot was worn with age and its once intricate design was faded and chipped. The cups clearly belonged to two different sets as neither matched the other nor the tea pot. One seemed to have a hairline crack starting from its rim and I sighed with resignation that it would be my cup. I carried the tea set over and it felt awkward in my hands. Truthfully I had never poured a cup of tea in my entire life. I could dole out sake to ten men with a flick of my wrist but something as simple as a tea pot felt bulky and clumsy in my hands.

I set the nicer of the two cups in front of him and proceeded to maneuver the tea pot to fill his glass. The tea rushed out faster than I thought it would and I was briefly taken by surprise. I held the old clunky pot in what I'm sure looked to be an extremely awkward fashion as I poured. Once the glass was full I tilted it back sharply and reminants of tea dripped down the worn spout and on to the table. Frustrated I set the poor excuse for a teapot down with more force than was admittedly necessary ignoring my own glass lest I have to pour with the damn thing once again.

"Have you never served tea before?" His voice asked in a tone which I could not place as patronizing or simply stoic. His question irked me for some reason. His impeccable posture, well-mannered restraint and aristocratic features lead me to believe he had come from a noble or prestigious background. To me he exuded the mannerisms and confidence of a wealthy and privileged upbringing.

"Pompous." I thought to myself.

While he may be well versed in conventional skills of the upper-class, pouring tea and arranging flowers didn't do much use in back alley skirmishes and dingy brothels. My irritation grew as he took a sip of what I'm sure was very poorly made tea with an effortless grace befitting of a prince. Oh but he was certainly no prince. Fancy upbringing or not we were sitting in the same place and I was willing to bet my hands were cleaner than his.

"People don't come here for the tea." I said letting a hint of malice slip through my tone.

"I suppose not. But apparently they come here for information as much as other commodities."

"I already told you I didn't say anything."

"I am aware of that, and in your silence you have proven trust worthy."

"Perhaps you trust too easily then." I said with a confused look not liking the direction this conversation was taking.

"This brothel has become a hub within the city for passing on valuable information. Information my organization has potential interests in." He said with a pointed look.

"You want me to snitch for you? Around here that's how girls end up floating in the sewers."

"And you will be compensated handsomely for the risk."

"No amount of coin is worth that risk."

"I don't recall the point in our conversation where I provided you with a choice." He said as he locked eyes with mine, onyx orbs flashing red. I felt a shiver run down my spine that I tried to suppress to hide my unsettlement.

"What exactly do you want to know?" I asked hesitantly. Although he had not said the words directly the threat was painfully clear. Act as an informant or suffer the consequences. Either way I had an inkling they both lead to my bloated corpse rotting in the vast pipe lines beneath the city.

"That is irrelevant. We merely ask that you keep an open ear and report information that might be considered valuable."

"How will I be reporting this valuable information exactly?"

"Either I or one of my associates will meet with you once a month to hear your findings."

"What if I don't find anything?"

"Then you become useless to us. Things that are useless are expendable."

I felt my throat tighten and stomach flip at the implications. I was a fool. More so than the cautious man dead amongst the poppies. I should have left the city the moment I encountered these men. I scoffed at my train of thought. Where would a gutter whore run off to anyways? Fate was an unforgiving bitch of a mistress, if this was to be my plan I could only walk through the poppy field with a head held high and pray I would awaken the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Fucked. It was a particularly crass word yet a common phrase in my profession. Perhaps it was my frequent exposure to the slur but I could think of no better word to surmise my current situation. Fucked. It was simple in its meaning yet modern language had given it the ability to expand its applicability to a vast multitude of contexts and hypothetical states. The words seemed to encompass my entire state of being and gift wrap itself into a single syllable. I was simply and utterly fucked.

It was nearing the end of the month following my initial meeting with the monotone demon, who had casually sipped upon watered down tea while handing me my death warrant. While the brothel was littered with secrets and information was as valuable as any currency, traded in hushed whispers amongst patrons, I had yet to find anything that might be considered relevant or valuable. Petty gossip and civilian discrepancies were easy enough to come by. I could name several nobles with adulterous inclinations, air the dirty laundry of a few known business men yet I doubt this information would be of interest to the ominous cloaked organization holding my leash. Shinobi were careful creatures, information was guarded like treasure, spoken to only a privileged few amongst their ranks. The closest I had come to anything related to the ninja world was that some Kage or another had a gambling problem and drank way too much sake. My instincts told me that this was not the type of information I was supposedly searching for.

I leaned against the bulky arm of the man I was next to in defeat. He seemed pleased with what he had misconstrued as flirtation and proceeded to flex his bicep against me. I swallowed my desire to roll my eyes at this typical behaviour and righted myself once again. The man seemed disgruntled at the loss of contact and rudely shoved his empty cup in my face for me to refill.

"You hear about that business going on in the South." My ears perked up, tuning in to the conversation occurring in the booth behind me.

"Bunch of monsters broke out of some sort of prison. My cousin does business down there. Said he came across one and nearly pissed himself." The man continued.

"Ah your cousins full of shit!" His companion jibed before helping himself to another glass of sake.

"No really! He said the thing came right up to him and said he had some sort of message to spread." The first man exclaimed, the effects of alcohol inhibiting his ability to control the decibels of his voice. "Said something about how this Uchiha killed a Sannin and freed em' all! Now there's all these fucking freak shows roaming around down there. My cousin said he got the hell out of there fast as he could."

"Man fuckin' ninja always going around and messin' with shit! I swear if I-"

I didn't bother to listen to the rest of the drunken mans rant. Ninja! That's the word I was looking for! I had to remember this! Monsters. Sannin. South. Uchiha.

This was definitely something I could use. I thanked whatever merciful entity sought to bless me today. I repeated the information like a mantra in my head.

"I thought all those Uchiha ninjas were dead though." My ears perked again at the name slurred from my two drunken saviours.

"Nah! Nah! There's two of 'em left. That one. And the brother who did it." At the mention of this brother the drunkard reduced his volume considerably, almost as if the fear of mentioning this man was a taboo itself. I found myself curious to learn more when a cup was once again shoved into my face.

"I've been trying to get your attention for over an hour now girl!" The disgruntled man next to me who I had spurned earlier was now, flushed pink with booze and a nasty temperament. "Are you an imbecile? I thought even a dumb whore could pour a drink." He spat angrily before ripping the sake jug from my hands and pouring it himself spilling some over the edges in his stupor. I had had many a drunk many insult me before but for whatever the reason I felt my temper flare at his words.

"I don't see why you didn't just do it yourself..." I said calmly as if discussing the weather. I peeked up through my eyelashes in a coy manner as the man halted in his drinking and turned to glare at me. As if silently warning me to choose my next words wisely.

Perhaps it was the sake I myself had indulged in flowing through my system. Or it could have been his companions opium pipe, drifting the euphoric smoke in my direction. Or perhaps I was still rushed from the high of having found information that could keep my neck from having a noose around it. Whatever the reason, my next choice of words were hardly a logical thing to say to a man thrice my size.

"I thought even a dumb baboon could pour a drink." I spat at him with a smirk. The cup the man was holding shattered and his partner choked on the drag of opium he had been brewing in his pipe causing bits of ash to fly across the table.

My logical mind eventually caught up to my drunken mouth and I immediately wished I could shove my words right back down my throat to whatever place of sheer stupidity in me they had been birthed from.

Had I not been paralyzed with fear of the rage emanating from the man before me I might have found it amusing the way his face was rapidly becoming an ungodly shade of purple.

"You're going to regret that you stupid slut." He growled through clenched teeth. Like the crap of a whip his hand launched out to grip my face. His meaty fingers squished my cheeks and bruised my jaw. I imagine I may have resembled a squished up blow fish but the agonizing pressure of his grip prevented me from thinking much else.

"I could snap your neck right now and no one would give a damn." He said squeezing tighter with each word to emphasize his point. Perhaps no one would care but Yokuto would demand some sort of compensation for my death and I doubt this bastard was willing to pay it. At most he might smack me around a bit, and it would be extremely painful but I would live. I clenched my eyes shut clinging to the notion that if the hit came as a surprise it may hurt less.

"I think you will find you are in a very similar position." I heard a familiar voice call out from behind the man crushing my head.

I slowly opened my eyes to see red eyes searing down onto the back of the mans head. His hand was outstretched and long thin fingers were wrapped around a meaty neck.

"Who the fuck do you think you are I'll snap everyone of those girly little fingers of yours! And then maybe I'll snap hers too!" The man raged and let out a hearty laugh at his own attempt at sick humour. However, his laughter quickly died in his throat as he looked towards his companion who looked as though he was looking into the face of death itself.

"J-Jiro... r-r-red eyes." His companion hissed at him but it ended up sounding like more of a whimper. "Uchiha!" The man squeaked trembling like a leaf behind his opium pipe as though it could protect him from the man in front of him.

Almost instantly I felt the man supposedly named Jiro release my face. His own features now a mirror image of the man with the opium pipe.

"I-I-I-I'm terribly sorry. I-I-I didn't know." Jiro whimpered stumbling through his words, looking to be near the point of tears. It was a strange thing to watch a man crumbling before you. Moments ago Jiro had been a brazen overconfident gorilla of a man in my eyes. Now the simpering creature before looked as though he couldn't intimidate a puppy.

Just who was this man before me that he could reduce this hulking giant to such a pitiful state?

"Break her fingers you said?" The dark man drawled in a lazy tone.

It happened far to fast for my eyes to catch the only thing alerting me of any change was the screech that came from the man in front of me. One second Jiro was sitting with his back to the red eyed figure and the next he was sprawled across the table with his arm outstretched, the hand attached looking as though it had gone through a meat grinder. I let out a yelp at the horrific sight before me. His fingers were completely mangled and sticking out at natural angles. Bones had splintered and ripped through skin while blood had only begun to pool in rivulets from the wounds.

Jiro screeched and howled and agony while his partner looked as horrified by the sight as I felt.

The dark haired man looked as if he had not moved a muscle.

"Leave." he said and the two were quick to comply. The man with the opium pipe scrambled to support the massive frame of his friend and dragged him out the door as fast as he possibly could. I never saw Jiro or the man with the opium pipe again. But something in my gut told me that no one else ever did either.

I continued to share at the pools of blood slowly seeping into the wood of the table, vaguely aware that the red eyed monstrosity had made is way to casually sit across from me. His actions were so nonchalant and unperturbed I was hard pressed to believe he had disfigured a man moments before.

"I have come to hear your report." He spoke in his trade mark monotone, ignoring the remains of carnage littering the table.

I could not have found the words to give him one if I had tried, only able to stare at the deep red stains and splinters of bone strewn across the surface of wood like a gruesome work of art.

"They called you Uchiha." I mustered in a disembodied voice I did not recognize as my own. My eyes never left the table as I continued. "That's the second time I've heard that name today."

This seemed to have an effect on the man before me as his body became stiff from my words.

"You will tell me everything you know." He said never breaking from his casual tone despite the rigidity of his shoulders and piercing stare.

"Freed monsters... South... Killed...Sannin." Not fully able to string together proper sentences I relayed the jist of my information and hopped he was capable of filling in the rest.

"I see. So it is almost time then." He mumbled. It might have been the state of shock that wracked my system but in that moment, he sounded more human to me than I had ever heard before.

"Should that name come up again you are to only reveal this information to me. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes." I found myself replying. Seemingly done with our conversation he stood to leave.

"What's your name?" I asked. It was a stupid question and an ever stupider circumstance to ask it, but I found the words slipping from my mouth as the seemed to habitually doing on their own today.

He stopped in his tracks and peered down at me with those lethal eyes and sharp as ever.

"Itachi."


	6. Chapter 6

The first few days after I saw him were my most cherished over the coming months. Between each visit I scraped together any piece of information I could, with a tenacity that would rival the most dedicated of spies. I lingered within earshot of any john that appeared to be a ninja and snooped through any possessions of my clientele if they so happened to drift off once achieving ecstasy. Any sort of worthwhile information I gathered was equivalent to gold in my eyes. There was a sort of rush that came after delivering my findings during our monthly visits. The euphoric high of escaping his wrath clung to my very being for days after, and then the scramble to remain a valuable asset worthy of keeping my head would start over once again in a twisted cyclical pattern.

Occasionally he would be accompanied by his shark faced partner. When Kisame had made his first appearance alongside Itachi, following our initial encounter which was arguably less than pleasant, I had been shaken. The gargantuan humanoid sea creature terrified me to my very core. I had witnessed his brutality first hand and had no desire to become his next victim. I shuddered at the memory, picturing the walls of my tiny room that were still stained an ugly rust like brown.

No amount of scrubbing was able to remove the splashes of the dead mans blood from my walls. I had considered painting over the gruesome splatter, but it seemed like a tiresome endeavour and I opted for rearranging the few items of furniture I possessed to cover the stains. In a twisted way I preferred keeping the traces of blood that had seeped into the walls. I sometimes found myself staring at the darkened splotch that peaked out from behind the dresser. It served as a reminder that at any moment I could wind up a stain alongside it. The dirty, faded rouge marking had become symbolic in a way. I kept my eyes locked on that stain while some random lonely sap grunted and panted atop me. In the crevices of my mind I had warped my logic into believing that the only reason I was tolerating the man gyrating sporadically against me was out of necessity for survival. Humans are vain creatures, always looking for an excuse to justify their sins. That stain was mine. If I was being honest with myself, I would have more than likely found myself in the same position even if it did not exist. But as it was, I found comfort by fooling myself into believing that I was a whore because I did not want to become a a blood splatter next to it. Prostitution for survival sounded much more ethically forgivable than whoring for coin. However, I doubted that the men, who adorned black robes and murdered men in cold blood, prioritized moral justification.

Kisame's appearance unnerved me. I was constantly on edge, fearing he might make good on his threat to remove one of my appendages. I quickly learned that his temperament was much more jovial when he had drink in hand. As jovial as a bloodthirsty criminals could be I supposed. His presence, proved to be negligible as he would mostly be content to lounge around consuming ungodly amounts of liquor. Occasionally throwing in his two cents, in the form of some crass comment or another. I had even found him to be amusing from time to time. Engaging him in light banter, the two of us developing an odd report. However, I was under no assumption that this civility exempted me from his earlier threats.

I found myself shifting ever so slightly towards Itachi, in hopes of using him as some sort of stone faced buffer should his companion become volatile. While I'm sure that the fine featured man was equally, if not more, deadly than his counterpart. He seemed to be the lesser of two evils, and over the months I had grown accustomed to his presence. I was not naive enough to allow myself to become unguarded around him, I still shuddered when I walked by the booth that had once been littered with blood and fragments of human remains. A casualty of the after math of the imposing mans wrath. I avoided the sitting space like the plague. Whenever I found myself forced to sit there my skin grew agitated and itched as imagined minuscule fragments of bone circulating the space like dust that couldn't be brushed away. However, I no longer found myself petrified by his anticipated arrival. He rarely spoke, and when he did it was to the point. I sometimes favoured his silence to the drunken yammering I was accustomed to.

Silence was a luxury seldom found in a brothel plagued by the slurred hollering of patrons and wanton moaning emanating from the back rooms. Yet, it seemed that silence followed him wherever he went. Upon his entrance, into to what could be loosely termed as an establishment, it seemed as though a spell had been cast. Obnoxious banter dulled to a timid chatter as his presence seemed to stifle the formerly boisterous atmosphere in the room. He seemed to be either ignorant or uncaring of the effect his arrival had, calmly making his way towards his preferred seat in the furtherest corner in the room. Onlookers turned the other direction as he passed by, not daring to meet his gaze. It was quite an anomaly to witness. I tried to imagine what it must feel like to possess that sort of power, able to cower even the most brazen of men into meek figures. I found it highly amusing that those around me were anxious and uneased by the silence, while I was content to enjoy it to the fullest extent that I could. He was an intimidating figure to be seated across from, but none the less it would do me no good to simper and fret. I had resigned myself to whatever fate he held in store for me, enjoying the simple pleasure of quiet in the normally chaotic setting.

In addition to the silence upon his frequented visitations, they had also brought forth a new array of benefits and coinciding problematic issues. The incident with Jiro had inevitably made its way through the local rumour mill. Following the event I began to see a significant decline in those willing to visit my bed, much to the displeasure of Yukoto who griped over the loss in revenue. Although I could hardly be blamed for his dip in profits. Even at his behest to throw myself at the men who visited the brothel most became nervous and uncomfortable from my attentions, some even avoiding me altogether.

Despite the fact that Itachi had yet to come between my sheets, there was a general consensus that I had been branded as being an exclusive commodity to a man few people were willing to cross. The seldom clients I did attend to mostly consisted of shinobi passing through the area and the few regulars I had developed amicable relationships with over time.

The general populace of patrons somehow seemed to be unusually well mannered in my presence. I recalled an incident where a man had begun apologizing profusely after bumping into me, as though I were nobility and not a working girl in a dirty brothel. I had initially revelled in this shift of hierarchy in my favour. Prancing through the joint without being groped and yanked around was a liberating experience I had never had the pleasure of before. This newly acquired superiority had manifested itself in a brazen attitude and I had become admittedly haughty.

I was brash and rude to the men who had once been cruel to me. No longer fearing a sharp back hand in repercussion. I took sickening pleasure in watching them twitch and fume from my goading. Daring them to so much as lift a finger against me. I highly doubted Itachi would have actually seen fit to hunt down my transgressors should they retaliate. More than likely he would warrant that my shitty attitude earned it. But these men didn't know that, and as long they thought otherwise I did not see reason to correct their assumption that I was the lover of an infamous rogue ninja.

There was one regular who frequented the brothel I detested in particular. A slimy bastard by the name of Shin was the recipient of a long standing grudge. He was a twisted fuck who liked to smack around his whores, only satisfied when they were left in tears. I refused to give him the pleasure of seeing me cry. He was particularly sadistic and I loathed when he came in. He would go to great lengths to try and get me to break. Burning me with cigarettes like I was his personal fucking ash tray. He wore a thick leather belt that he brandished as a whip, flailing it like an exuberant artist would a paint brush and my back was his canvas. The man had developed an obsessive need to see me shed a tear and when I refused to do so he would leave angry and frustrated. Vowing that the next time he came I would sob for mercy. I hated him.

So when it had become public knowledge that I was under the protection of an Akatsuki I took great pleasure in seeing him squirm like an insect. In my meetings with Itachi I made sure to catch Shins' eye and shoot him the most smug grin I was capable of. I delighted at the vicious glares he sent back, stewing in rage at my audacity. It filled me with glee to know that he was far too much of a coward, as most men who beat women are, to risk crossing an Akatsuki. Self preservation out weighing his hatred. As long as I was seeing Itachi, Shin was as harmless as a fly.

Then the next month Itachi did not come. I assumed that this was a fluke, and he would be back again the following month. Rather a blessing in disguise as I did not have much to report that he would take interest in.

But then the following month, he had yet to make an appearance.

Suddenly I found myself longing for his imposing figure to burst through the door. His absence sparked hushed whispers that he had abandoned me. I began to feel very vulnerable as I caught the sinister smirks of the men I had spurned.

Itachi frightened me, but in that moment I found myself much more afraid of the leering gazes from men that promised retribution for my earlier antics.

I considered the fact that perhaps he had simply left me. Why should I have expected notice that he was finished with our dealings? I was under no delusions that he cared for me in any way, nor I him. However his absence now left me an open target for the ire of evil men. I was not an imbecile and rationalized that my previous attitude would no longer fly with out Itachi's presence as a looming threat. I quickly sought to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, taking only enough clients to keep Yokuto off my back. His previous tolerance of my lack of income had dissipated and he developed a sort of vendetta against me for what he referred to as 'being light on the rent'. During my previous reign of entitlement I had made it clear to Yokuto that I would be granted the privilege of refusing the rougher clientele, and his failure to comply would result in a prompt visit from my raven haired benefactor.

Three months later he still had not returned and the suspicions of his dismissal of me appeared to be finalized. I made an effort to discredit this as here say. Lying through my teeth I told anyone who would listen that he was away on a lengthy mission, and occasionally wrote me letters. It was a pitiful attempt and most people assumed it was fabricated.

Shin looked positively giddy.

I calmed myself with the assurance that he was far too much of a coward to risk harming me in the event Itachi should return. But as I watched his wicked grin grow with each day that passed I became less and less reassured.

With the hopes of Itachi's return dissipating, my only chance of self preservation rested on the gamble that Yokuto's fear of Itachi returning outweighed his greedy nature. I knew I was only living on borrowed time until someone presented him the right price.

Walking towards my room I cursed the absentee ninja to hell and high water for leaving me in this predicament. He had used me like a tool and tossed me away carelessly after I had outgrown my usefulness. I begrudgingly cursed myself for allowing myself to become reliant on another. I learned long ago that the only person worth relying on is oneself. Everyone else was in it for themselves and would use you if you let them.

My mood soured by my resentment for the raven haired ninja, I turned the creaky handle adorning my door and pushed it open only to make a horrifying discovery.

My time was up.


End file.
